7 Charming Amenities of the World's Grossest Motel Room

#3. The Precariously Placed Television

No, your eyes do not deceive you. That's an old school (as in heavy as shit) television haphazardly placed on top of a sloped cabinet that I think is supposed to only be used for storing dead hookers until nightfall (they don't keep too well after that). How this struck anyone as a decent idea is something I will never understand. How this television has never struck someone on the head is also a mystery. I mean, it is technically attached to the wall, but only because there's (most likely pirated) cable running to it.

The shit isn't even secured to the top of the shelf in any way. Someone just tossed that bitch on top of a sloped cabinet and was like "fuck it, lunch." Sometimes, when I'm at my darkest (which is precisely whenever I'm watching Kathie Lee and Hoda on the Today show), I stand under this television and hope for gravity to take its natural course. Ha! Comedy!

#2. The Power Outlets

Do you know why those power outlets look surprised? It's because they can't believe anyone actually paid money for them. In a plot twist I've yet to experience in my entire life, every single outlet in this room is too large for anything resembling a traditional power cord. It's like I'm in Europe or something. Every single one. All of them. Too big. No matter what device you plug in, the cord just kind of dangles precariously for a second before falling pointlessly to the floor, still yearning for precious electricity.

Just taking this photo produced enough force to knock this out of the wall moments later.

I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to accurately describe what kind of a problem this presents. It won't surprise you to know that working for a website comes with a lot of time spent on a computer. As "luck" would have it, the laptop I use for work doesn't have a battery in it. I usually just plug it in to the wall. I do own a battery, but when you're fleeing to a shitty motel, it's not the kind of thing you think to retrieve. So here I sit, writing a depressing comedy article about the horrors of being in a shitty motel room, unable to even breathe in the direction of my laptop's power cord, lest my computer screen go black as the plug tumbles out of the one outlet that's (kind of) capable of holding it tightly. Needless to say, it's happened three times just while writing this.

#1. My Pet Hair

Don't get the wrong idea here. I don't call this my "pet hair" because I have pets here in the room with me. That would imply that there was a shred of happiness to be found in this disaster of a dwelling. There is not. Rather, I call it my "pet hair" because, like a loyal dog unwilling to leave its owner's side during times of turmoil, this hair has been in this room with me the entire time I've been here. It's stuck to the bathroom door frame and has heroically survived repeated visits from "housekeeping." In my current state of emotional vulnerability, I like to imagine that housekeeping tries to remove it each morning when I briefly step out to panhandle for cigarette money, but their efforts are thwarted solely through this rogue hair's ceaseless dedication to seeing me through this storm. And then I cry. Weeks from now, I'm sure I'll realize that this hair cares nothing for me and is only here because of housekeeping's equally ceaseless dedication to not wiping away the thick patina of filth that's been holding it in place since sometime around 2003. But right now, that hair is my only friend, and I love it dearly.